Easter

For the swan legs beaking to the ground. Swollen hipped tables. Egg toes swaying across the sitting room floor. For the golden threaded clock swaying the time of day. You must stay here. Write. Wait.

Sway, sway, sway. This is the word to capture the undulating of the brain in the moments of shyness. When the voices are clear and happy, and you are uncertain that you can contribute to that. Before the first shining light strolls into your room. With your stuffed chair, and you writing. Waiting.

So much Patience!

Sarcasm? Exasperation? What is this exclamation?